Walking After You
by desrm
Summary: "I know I've made mistakes, Emma, but I thought we were going to work through this." Will/Emma oneshot, based on the finale!


**Started writing this before the finale, and thanks to my job and life in general, I didn't finish it until now! Here's my version of "Journey" and onwards, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!**

On a Friday afternoon, Will finds himself contemplatively drumming his fingers against his dining room table. A neat and stapled stack of papers sits before him and he stares at it incredulously, wondering for a moment how he managed to let his life pan out this way. The word "_divorce"_ jumps out at him from the first page, menacing in its finality and life altering meaning. Having canceled Glee rehearsal, he made it home early from school, anxiously searching through his mailbox to find an envelope from his lawyer, who had called the day before to let him know he would be receiving it.

The space meant for his signature is empty but as he finally puts pen to paper, slowly etching out his name, he doesn't think of the woman he's ending a marriage with. He's already spent many nights mourning the loss of the ill-fitting relationship he stayed in for over half of his life. In the end, he's emerged from it stronger and more aware of his own desires. Now, his thoughts aren't invaded by visions of blond hair and blue eyes, they're swarmed with images of fiery red locks and warm, brown irises.

_Emma._ Her name falls from his lips as he scribbles a last letter on the paper. Something awakens within him as he lets the reality of the situation settle. While he's spent many of his recent nights alone and lamenting the emptiness he's been feeling, the prospect of his relationship with Emma possibly leading somewhere after he legally gains his freedom has never been more real. They've barely spoken or even seen each other in weeks. Their few encounters have been awkward more than anything, filled with tense glances and forced conversation. He knows that they're both longing for the former easy nature of their relationship, but have been unable to find it because what's been looming over them.

He lets his pen fall carelessly onto the table and shoves the papers back into a large manila envelope. He wants to call Emma and tell her the news; he wants to tell her that he's finally free, that the guilt related to his marriage that he's been carrying around is gone, along with any of the residual grief that it had left him with. The only pain that he's feeling now is the ache that he feels to tell her that he only wants to be with her.

But she deserves better than a phone call, and for a moment there's a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him she, quite simply, deserves better than him. He's never been more aware of the fact that she merits so much more than the way he's treated her in the past. He's been constantly plagued by thoughts that he would do anything to take back the mistakes he made months ago. Back then, kissing Shelby and his friendship with April (however innocent it may have been), seemed like simple detours in his haze of confusion and loneliness during the wake of his separation from Terri. Those small detours quickly became the catalysts for his largest regrets.

The next day he finds himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair, across from his lawyer's desk. Terri sits awkwardly next to him, fidgeting slightly. He sighs and wipes a hand over his tired face as the door opens and a man in an expensive suit walks in. He politely greets the former couple before him and takes a seat at his desk.

"I just have to go over your papers one last time," he says as Will gazes at him uneasily, "just to make sure everything is proper and signed. Then it will all be official."

It's barely 15 minutes later, after the lawyer dryly pronounces them legally divorced, that Will and Terri find themselves walking back to their own respective cars. She slows her step as they walk into the parking lot, turning to him with a forlorn look on her face. Had she given him such a look several months ago, he would have wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Instead, he merely stands before her, avoiding her gaze.

"I really am sorry for everything, Will." She says.

For the first time since their separation, he truly believes that she means what she's saying. There's a tone of subtle desperation and shame settling in her voice; the quiet sincerity of it almost startles him. It sends a pang through his heart because, for once, he knows exactly what she's feeling. Though his actions were not as extreme as hers, he knows they're feeling the same regret: the same guilt and longing for absolution.

Though he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to obtain it from the woman he desperately needs it from, he gives Terri the one thing they both want more than anything: forgiveness.

"I know, Terri… it's okay."

It's on the next Monday that he shows up unannounced in Emma's office, gently knocking on the glass panel of the door before letting himself in and smiling tentatively at her. All the certainty seems to leave his body once she looks up at him from her desk with a slightly arched brow. The fact that they haven't spoken in weeks suddenly affects his conviction; he awkwardly runs his fingers through his hair and sits in one of the chairs facing her.

"Hi…" he mutters lamely.

"Hi, Will."

He notices immediately that her voice doesn't carry the same warm tone that he's known for years now. It's reminiscent of that day over two months ago, that he walked into her office with a bouquet of flowers, dragging his humility with him. She had spoken to him in the same way of strained indifference then, and left him with the same feeling of dread that was igniting in the pit of his stomach at the moment.

"How have you been?" It's probably the last on a long list of things he wants to say to her, but it's his only plausible breaker for the awkwardness that surrounds them.

"I've been…" she sighs, clearly feeling the same tension as him, "fine." Her eyes search the features of his face and he feels discomfort sweep over his body. "Is there something wrong, Will?"

He bites back a bitter chuckle that rises to the back of throat. He can think of more things that are _wrong_ than anything else, namely the lack of her in his life. There is, however, no way for him to say that without sounding spiteful and slightly accusatory. So he takes a breath before speaking.

"I know we haven't seen each other in a while, Emma. I'm sorry for barging in here like this, but I just wanted…" He trails off, feeling his chest constrict with the weight of his next words and the impact they could have. "I just needed to tell you that my divorce is final. I signed the papers over the weekend and it's official."

A long, agonizingly silent moment passes. She gapes at him, and he notices that he can't read the emotions that fleetingly reside in her eyes. The thought causes a painful lump to form in his throat; he swallows thickly, blinking a few times. Not so long ago, he would have been able to tell exactly what she was feeling.

She coughs for no apparent reason, shaking her head to rid her face of its dazed look.

"Okay." She whispers finally.

He stares at her, open mouthed and stunned. _Okay?_ Each night that he had kept himself awake, wondering what she might possibly say or do when he gave her such a piece of consequential news, his thoughts had never ended with such a simple acknowledgement from her.

"This isn't right... maybe I should-" he trails off without reason, standing and making his way to the door. He's just about to open it when she calls out to him softly, her voice so low that for a second he thinks his hearing is playing tricks on him. When he finally turns, she's making her way towards him. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her, a habit he knows she has when she's particularly uncomfortable. She stands a couple of feet away from him, but close enough for him to have the fight the urge to reach out to her.

"I don't…" she pauses, staring at the floor for a moment. When their gazes meet again, he notices the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "I don't know what you want from me."

He sighs, fighting the incredible need to bring her into his arms. "I just miss you, Emma. I miss being able seeing you every day. I miss talking to the person I could talk about anything with…" Her pain stricken gaze is practically imploring him to stop, but he continues, needing nothing more than to finally voice his feelings. "For months, I've been thinking about how I ruined things between us… and how the only thing I want is to make it right."

"I, um-" She shakes her head and takes in a shuddered breath, "I can't do this." Her hands motion vaguely between them as she does her best to avoid eye contact with him. "I'm with someone, Will…"

It's a mere whisper, but he hears her perfectly. Her words hit him like a direct blow to the chest. The air is knocked out of his lungs for a second and he struggles to find something to say or do. There's a moment of tense silence; she bites her lip nervously, his own mouth slightly agape in his silence.

"What?" he finally manages to breathe out.

"I've been dating someone… for, um, a little while now." She responds with a little more clarity in her voice. Hearing her revelation for the second time is surprisingly just as brutal as the first, and he has to take a step away from her for a moment to catch his breath. He purses his lips and turns to face her again, biting back a plethora of malicious words. She sheepishly meets his gaze, and suddenly he can't bear to look at her. Her mournful look is suffocating him and making his every muscle incredibly tense. He rubs at the back of his neck briefly before facing her again, exhaling sharply to keep as much emotional control as he can.

"I know I've made mistakes, Emma, but I thought we were going to work through this," he pauses and reaches out, needing to touch her anyway possible and make sure the situation is real. He quickly changes his mind, his hand hovering nonsensically between their bodies. "I thought there was still something there between us… I guess I was wrong."

He goes to leave before giving her a chance to speak, but she calls out to him in a voice so thick with emotion that it causes him to stop in his tracks just as he opens the door.

"Will," she says again, breathlessly this time, "I'm sorry, I-"

He silences her without warning by crashing his lips to hers. His hands rest on either side of her face; he can feel her jerk slightly at the moment of contact. His kiss isn't gentle, calculated and laced with adoration as it usually is. Instead, it's urgent, insistent and clumsy. He pulls away just as she starts to respond to him, and runs his thumbs along her cheekbones in a moment of tender weakness.

This time as he opens the door, he turns to her, his body buzzing from the intensity of his emotions and the feel of her lips on his. The sight of her standing there, doe eyed, disheveled and tearful sends a wave a shock through his body. She's right in front of him, quite literally everything he wants, and now exactly what he can't have. She brings her hand to her face, pressing her delicate fingers to her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed and he knows she's thinking of the kiss too. Words manifest at the back of his throat, leaving him with a bitter taste and the urge to just give into the temper in his heart.

"Tell me you didn't feel anything!" He shouts angrily, his tone causing her to flinch and her mouth to fall agape. She's wordless and he shakes his head, blinking back the warm, unwelcome tears pooling slightly in his eyes.

He leaves then, walking tenaciously down the hallway. He ignores the shocked looks from students and a few teachers as they stare unabashedly at him or Emma through the sheer glass of her office walls.

Weeks pass again without them speaking. They don't see or talk to each other and avoid eye contact if they happen to pass the other in a hallway. The Glee Club barely loses at regionals; Vocal Adrenaline, led by Jesse, take the title with an elaborate Queen number. He couldn't be prouder of New Direction's performance and dedication, but their loss only means that he has nothing left to throw his attention into. So he spends his nights and weekends grading Spanish papers, sipping a beer or two and watching boring TV reruns. Quite simply, his life quickly becomes a dull, passionless routine.

He's been alone in every sense of the word; his only real communication with anyone has been his final classes of the year with his students and boring small talk with the few people of the faculty that still bother to talk to him. So when his phone rings late one night, he lays unmoving on his couch, perplexed for a moment. He answers tentatively, rubbing at his tired eyes.

No one speaks on the other side of the line, but he hears a stifled noise and a short but heavy breath.

"Hello?" he says again, his voice laced with confusion.

"Will…" it's quiet and followed but what sounds like a strangled sob, but he knows that voice anywhere.

"Emma?" he murmurs as he rises from the couch, suddenly wide-awake. "Is everything okay?"

She mumbles erratically about not having her car and being stranded somewhere. With the way she's speaking, he can't hear anything clearly. She says something along the lines of "I couldn't do it" and tells him that she had no one else to call.

"Emma," he whispers, hoping his tone is somewhat soothing. "Where are you?"

She shakily gives him an address and he wonders for a moment if it belongs to the man who gets to call her his. He recently discovered, thanks to the incessant gossip of women in the teacher's lounge, that she's dating her dentist: some guy named Carl.

He shakes the jealous and unwelcome thoughts from his head and says "Stay there, I'm coming to get you."

He hangs up before she can protest, running to his room to put on a clean pair of jeans before grabbing his keys and bolting out the door. He jumps into his old car, cursing under his breath as it takes an extra minute to start.

When he finally finds the address she'd given him on the phone, his brow furrows. An apartment complex that he's never been to stands in front of him. He parks and gets out of the car, letting his gaze quickly scan the vicinity for a head of red hair. He spots her, uncharacteristically sitting at the bottom of small set of stairs near the door of the building. His heart breaks as he sees her wiping at her cheeks; even from a distance he can tell that she's in a frantic state. He makes his way over slowly, trying not to startle her, and sits down.

He whispers her name, hesitant to reach out to her. She sniffles and purses her lips but remains silent. His hand gently rests on her shoulder and his thumb traces circles there aimlessly.

"Come on," he says, getting up and holding out a hand for her, "Let's get you home."

He helps her to her feet, gazing worriedly at her as he notices her tousled appearance. Her eyes are bloodshot, tear tracks are lying prominently on her cheeks and her hair is more out of place than he's ever seen.

They drive in silence, Will sneaking a few sideways glances at her along the way. She looks out the window distractedly. While tears are no longer trailing down her delicate cheeks, he can tell from her far off gaze that she's deep in thought.

When they finally make it to her condo, she's still motionless in the passenger seat. He wants so desperately to ask her what happened to make her so visibly upset, but he knows that she'll tell him if she feels the need. He shakes his head, feeling utterly useless in her presence; he feels an urgent need to be able to soothe her, but their relationship has been so strained and awkward lately that he has no idea how.

"Emma…" he murmurs, trying to coax her out of her reverie. She tenses at the sound of his voice and tightly shuts her eyes, as if she's fighting back another onset of tears. He sighs heavily and quickly steps from the car, making his way to her side. He slowly opens the passenger door and crouches down so their faces are level with each other. He whispers to her again, placing a warm hand on her rigid arm. She finally allows herself to look at him. When a trail of tears falls down her fragile face, he has to fight back his own emotions. He purses his lips and gives her a look of sweet understanding despite the total confusion he's feeling.

Another wordless moment passes; he reaches across her lap and unbuckles her seat belt for her. Taking her hand, he leads her out of his car. She staggers just slightly as she rises, her limbs as shaky as her nerves, prompting him to place his touch on the small of her back. They slowly make their way through her building and to her door, him continuously holding her steady. She manages to pull her keys from her bag and he gently takes them from her hand, unlocking the door.

When she steps into her condo, he lingers in the doorway, waiting for an invitation that he's not certain he'll get in her current state. His hand falls from her back and nervously finds the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll.. um…" he stammers and takes a step back from her.

"Don't go." She whispers. He barely hears it, but the pleading way that she gazes at him is enough to persuade him. He nods and follows her inside, closing the door behind him and quickly taking his shoes off. She reaches out to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, near his shoulder. Shocked, he turns to her, her face crumpling before his eyes. He sees more than feels her begin to tremble, and without questioning himself, pulls her into his arms. Her face rests against his chest and he can feel her warm breath coming out in stunted sobs. He swallows, letting one hand rest against the back of her head, softly stroking her hair.

"Emma," he breathes, his mouth brushing by her ear. "Please tell me what's going on."

"I broke up with Carl." She says without lifting her head from its resting place. Her words reverberate against his chest and set a spark inside his heart. For a fleeting second, he's exhilarated. It passes as soon as it appears, but he immediately wants to kick himself for feeling anything but heartbreak for the shattered woman holding on to him as if he's her lifeline.

He can't think of anything to say, so he merely murmurs nonsensically to her as she tightens her hold on him. He wonders what made her come to such a decision; a plethora of possibilities flash through his mind and his jaw pulls taut. He can barely get his next words out.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No… I'm fine, Will." She says, her voice faint.

He represses the urge to argue with that statement and nods. He reluctantly untangles himself from her slightly, and she allows her arms to fall back to her sides. Giving her a subtle, reassuring smile, he brushes a stray strand of hair from her face and then takes her hand into his. He brings her to the nearby couch, taking a seat and coaxing her to fall next to him. Immediately, he pulls her back to him. She settles into the crease of his arm, draping her own over his waist. He places a chaste kiss to the top of her head.

"What happened?" He asks. She takes a sharp breath and he mentally berates himself for being so invasive. "You don't have to tell me." He adds.

"It's okay," she breathes, her fingers absent-mindedly playing with a button on his shirt. "Carl, he um- I could always tell that he wanted to…" she pauses, searching for the right words, "take things a little further than I did."

For a second, Will wants nothing more than to get up, find this dentist, and give him a piece of his mind. He suppresses the urge and soothingly runs his fingers along her arm, persuading her to keep talking.

"He kind of… pressured me." She trembles just slightly, but he notices. "His intentions were clear." A single tear rolls down her cheek and, heavy-hearted, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Oh, Emma…" he sighs for no particular reason.

"I, um- I tried to stop it. He kept going, told me to loosen up, so I had to be forceful. He shouted at me, asked me why I pulled away, and if it was because of my… issues. He said I shouldn't let them just stand in the way of everything." Will's free hand curls into a fist from where it sits on his lap.

"You deserve so much better." He says, vaguely realizing how vain it sounds but he doesn't care. She merely shrugs.

"I told him I just couldn't." She lifts her head slightly from it's resting place on his chest, looking him in the eyes. "And it wasn't because of my problems."

His brow furrows and she takes in a shuddering breath.

"Will, I could never go through with it, because he's not you."

His mouth falls open and he blatantly stares at her for a moment; he's forgotten how to breathe and how to form words. Sound seems to fall silent and movement stills.

"_Emma_." he stresses, unsure of what else to say.

She tears herself away from him, sitting up so she can study his face. He can still feel the shock coursing through his body. His heart is hammering against his rib cage and blood is pulsing to every pore on his body. He wants nothing more than to say something, but he's barely able to form thoughts and much less, form a coherent sentence.

"I've missed you." She whispers finally, ducking her head to hide her flustered look.

He lets out a breath that nearly sounds like a sob and clumsily pulls her back towards him. His arms wrap tightly around her and he nuzzles her hair. She relaxes in his hold, slinging one of her legs in between his in order to be closer.

"I missed you too." He breathes vehemently. "Every day."

"I'm tired of waiting, Will… aren't you?" He smiles, shaking his head in utter disbelief of the woman in his arms. He pulls away from her, able to place his hands on either side of her face and let his thumbs softly stroke her temples. Their gazes lock heatedly and he has to fight the urge to kiss her before he speaks.

"I'd wait as long as I needed to for you. You're worth all of it." He says insistently. She chuckles lightly and brings her hands to cover his, holding them to her cheeks.

"After everything… how are you still so sweet to me?" She responds warmly, a beaming smile lighting up her face. He lowers a hand, letting his fingers linger on the delicate skin of her neck and relishing in the way it makes her shiver.

"Because I love you." He says softly, his voice quiet but his words insistent.

She freezes beneath his touch and her eyes grow even wider than normal. He feels a twinge of shame for letting himself be so forward with her when she's in such a delicate state. But, he knows his reason for uttering those life-altering words is not because he's trying to convince her to be with him, but because he merely feels the need to be completely honest with her.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, smoothing out the crease that's appeared in her brow. He lingers there, slowly letting his nose brush against her skin and finding hers. Their lips are painfully close, making their eyes instinctively flutter closed. Her now ragged breath mixes with his, sweet and enticing. Before he can act on his urge to do the same, she pulls him in with a hand on the back his neck and their lips meet.

They've kissed countless times before, all of them amazing, but there's something different about this one. It's not overly tentative or urgent. There's an elating sense of familiarity in the kiss; it feels more right than ever before. They're not rushed and desperate to convey hidden emotions. They fit together in a way that proves that they are exactly where they should be.

Will is the one to pull away, placing one last, short peck to her lips.

"Em," he sighs, the old endearment slipping off his tongue, "maybe we shouldn't…"

She takes his hand then, her tiny fingers dancing over his large palm. He stares at his lap, taking pleasure in the flawless way their hands connect.

"Will," she says pointedly, "let's not waste any more time." She kisses him again: slowly and languorously. If he wasn't so lost in everything about her, he would stagger at her uncharacteristic boldness.

He wants to tell her that they should wait just a little longer, that she's had a long day and that it wouldn't be right of him to give into what he wants right now. But the way she hums her approval as he kisses her back has his head swimming and his thoughts quickly evade him.

She breaks the kiss, her eyes still closed and their lips still barely touching. They're silent for a fleeting minute before she whispers to him, her quiet voice still ardent.

"I love you…"

Any control he had over himself instantly leaves and he discovers how completely and utterly powerless he is to her. She pulls away and rises from the couch, her hand still entwined with his. She motions for him to follow her and she leads them down the hallway, to what he quickly assumes is her bedroom. His grip on her hand tightens subconsciously and he swallows thickly. She closes the door behind them as they walk in to her room, making the situation all the more real. They stand wordlessly by the door for a minute, simply drinking in the presence of the other.

She wraps her arms around his waist - low on his back, he notes longingly- and chastely kisses his chest, through his shirt and over his heart. He's fairly certain that she can feel it beat against her lips. His hands find their way to her hips as she takes him by the collar of his shirt and walks backwards towards the bed. She takes a seat at the foot of it, gazing up at him with a spectrum of emotions flashing through her warm eyes. He takes a moment to memorize her: mouth thoroughly kissed, hair disheveled, clothing slightly askew and the last remnants of old tears glistening on her face. He grins down at her, almost unable to believe she's sitting there, solely focused on him.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" he murmurs, leaning down to softly brush his lips against hers. "Is this what you want?"

A small smile tugs at her features. "Of course, Will. I just want _you_." She whispers earnestly. He feels tears pooling in his eyes and shakes his head slightly, blinking them back.

"I'm yours." He says heatedly, slowly and gently coaxing her to lie back against the bed. She goes willingly and he soon climbs in next to her, wedging one of his legs in between hers and allowing himself to partially hover over her.

Clothing soon finds itself in heaps on the floor, giving way for yearning bodies to explore each other. She's hesitant, initially, blushing with embarrassment as her fingers and lips are introduced to every contour and ripple on his body. He's unsure as well, but they swiftly lose themselves in the other. Cautious touches surrender to passionate caresses. Breathless moans and declarations of affection and devotion become their soundtrack.

When they finally connect fully for the first time, he takes a moment to let her tense body relax. He brushes kisses against her forehead, cheeks and neck before reaching her lips. His name spills into the room, falling from her mouth in a pleading manner. They fall into an easy rhythm and he groans from low in his throat as she continues to let her eager hands wander over his body.

The breathtaking way they connect is almost too much to take and all too soon, they lay as a pile of sated, tangled limbs. He gently pulls her back to his chest, placing a succession of kisses to her shoulder and smiling against her skin as she hums with pleasure.

"Incredible." She says, her breathing still labored and uneven. He chuckles and whispers his agreement.

She stifles a yawn that does not go unnoticed by him. He brushes a few strands of hair from her face and tucks them behind her ear.

"Tired?" he says, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

She nods meekly and cuddles into him more, resting her hands on his as they lay on her bare stomach. He feels his eyelids begin to grow heavy as well and lets himself give in to fatigue. He grins sleepily. After months of restless, agonizing nights, he knows now that when he wakes up, he won't be alone and aching for Emma to be lying next to him.

"I love you…" he whispers to her. Her even breaths tell him she's already asleep, and he finally lets himself give in to slumber.


End file.
